


Planned sex is always awkward

by Vanimelda4



Series: Teenlock short stories [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkwardness, Crack, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanimelda4/pseuds/Vanimelda4
Summary: This is a prequel to my other teenlock story "I'm not calling you a liar".Both can be read seperately and are comprised out of smut, fluff and crack.In my other story there is mention of an awkward blow job session where Sherlock knees John in the face. This is that session.





	Planned sex is always awkward

John Watson didn't get nervous often, but he was pretty damn nervous today.  
Physically he was at school, attending his classes alright, but he didn't seem to be able to keep his mind and his body in the same place.  
The reason for his mental absence was that he had an appointment with Sherlock after school. An appointment of a very intimate nature. Sex, basically.  
It wasn't as if they'd never done anything sexual before. That wasn't the part making him nervous. It was just that it was usually Sherlock who did things, very, very nice things, to John. Not the other way around. 

He had broached the subject to Sherlock about a week ago.  
They had been in the tool shed behind school that nobody used anymore. Well, nobody besides them. It was where they usually went to be together without anyone finding out they were “together”. Sherlock had given him a rather pleasant blow job and they were just about to leave when John had asked him, while turning a pretty impressive shade of crimson and avoiding Sherlocks eyes at all cost, if he could 'return the favor' sometime. 

'Have you ever given one before?' Sherlock had asked. One eyebrow raised. 

'I thought I was straight until I met you.' 

'Ah' the succinct reply. 

A pretty long silence followed. Making John even more uncomfortable than he already was. And just when John was about the tell Sherlock to forget the whole thing and pretend he hadn't said anything, Sherlock continued speaking: 

'I would be amenable. But not here. There is still a risk people will walk in on us here. It wouldn't do to add an extra stress factor for you, seeing as it will be your first time.' 

Another uncomfortable silence.

'Especially not if your teeth are going to be anywhere near my private parts.'

'Ah', was all John could say to that. All the while keeping his gaze fixed on a part of the wall just right of Sherlocks ear. 

'My parents won't be home Thursday afternoon next week. You could come to my house after school then......That is.....if you'd like that of course'

Having at that point temporarily lost his ability to speak John had just nodded. Sherlock had mumbled something in return he couldn't quite make out and after that he had opened the door and left. 

“Amenable”? What the hell did that even mean? 

*******************************************************************************

So now he found himself on the aforementioned Thursday afternoon at Sherlocks house.  
On Sherlocks sofa. Still fully clothed, on his belly in between a fully naked Sherlocks legs. With Sherlocks erect cock in his mouth. 

It had been very, very awkward at first. Mostly because of Johns nerves. He tended to ramble when he was nervous. And not in a sexy way. Halfway through the third story he was telling about going grocery shopping with his mother Sherlock had just sighed, rolled his eyes, pretty much attacked his lips with his mouth and tongue and had climbed into Johns lap grinding his swiftly growing erection into Johns abdomen.

It all had gone a bit better from then on. 

Not in the least because John soon realized he quite liked having Sherlocks cock in his mouth. He liked the feel of the texture of it on his tongue, the intimate flavor that was solely Sherlock, the tension in Sherlocks hips and thighs as he desperately tried not to thrust so as not to choke John. But most of all he liked the sounds he was able to draw from Sherlocks lips.

It was utterly pornographic. 

Until it all went horribly wrong of course.

John had found out pretty quickly that Sherlock was very sensitive to any stimulation to his glans. At the moment he had his hand working the shaft with just the head of Sherlocks penis in his mouth as he rolled his tongue through the slit lapping up the increasing amount of precome that was starting to gather there. Sherlock was reduced to an incoherent moaning mess. His voice deeper than John had ever heard it and his legs were trembling as his back was lifting up off the sofa minutely every time Johns tongue made contact.

John was pretty proud of himself that he was able to achieve such strong reactions on his first try. And perhaps it was because he was mentally praising himself that he missed the first few coherent groans Sherlock was starting to make. 

'Uhn...John...comming...' Sherlock groaned. 

And all of a sudden Johns mouth was flooded with semen. Quite a lot of it. Something John was not expecting yet and in a reflex he let go of Sherlocks still ejaculating member and jumped backwards. In itself this would not have been too bad had it not been for the fact that, also in a reflex, at that exact same moment Sherlocks knee shot up, hitting John in the face. 

John felt like his nose had been hit with a hammer and all of a sudden his upper lip was starting to feel all wet and warm. In a daze he brought his fingers to his face to see what the cause of the warm wetness was and when he brought them back down they were covered in blood.  
By now Sherlock was on his feet as well, staring at John with wide eyes. 

'John, you're bleeding', he said, a slight hint of panic to his voice, 'you're bleeding...... on the sofa.....get away from the sofa, John!' 

John wasn't sure what to say to that. Honestly, he had expected a bit more concern from Sherlock for his physical health at this moment. 

'We can not get blood on this sofa, John. It's an antique. It's my mothers favorite antique' Sherlock continued as he was trying to physically push John as far away from said piece of furniture as he could.

Driven by pain, shock, pure adrenaline and a not a small hint of embarrassment John was starting to get angry now. The pornographic scene from earlier completely ruined. John was pretty sure this sort of thing never happened in porn-movies. 

'Why on earth would you choose an antique sofa to have sex on' he said. His tone of voice terse and slightly nasal as he felt his nose swelling up more by the second.

'It's the most comfortable one in the house', Sherlock interjected as he crossed his arms defensively. At that moment he actually managed to look haughty while completely naked, 'and I wasn't really expecting you to bleed all over it.'

'Well I wasn't expecting you to kick me in the face!'

'It was not like I did that on purpose!'

'It's not like I'm bleeding on purpose either!'

A moment of silence as they both glared at each other.

'How on earth am I going to explain this to my mother' Sherlock mumbled, gaze fixed on the now bloodstained sofa. 

'You? How am I going to explain this to my mother' John replied, pointing at his nose aggressively. 'You broke my nose!'

'It's not broken John' Sherlock said matter-of-factly. Not taking his eyes of the sofa. 

What followed was a laden silence and more glaring between them. 

Eventually it was John who started to giggle first. It was the sight of Sherlock standing there all haughty and moody that did it for him. His hair sticking out in all angles where he had been pulling on it as John had been otherwise occupied. His skin flushed from their recent physical exertion and his flagging erection covered in quickly drying semen and Johns nose blood. The whole situation was utterly ridiculous. And it made Johns heart swell.  
If there was one thing he had learned while being in a relationship with sherlock Holmes it was that nothing ever went as you expected it to go.  
“Exhibit A”, he thought as his giggles were now increasing in volume. 

'It's not funny John', Sherlock spat, but with not quite as much venom in his voice as before. 

'Oh, id is a liddle bid', John responded, unable now to pronounce the words properly as his nasal passages were swelling shut.

Slowly the corners of Sherlocks mouth were starting to turn up as well as the reality of their situation was sinking in. 

'How's your nose?' he asked. Arms still crossed, but the tension leaving his body. 

'Id's been bedder'. 

Sherlock snorted, rolled his eyes and extended his hand to John as a soft smile was forming on his lips.  
'Come on', he said, 'let's get you cleaned up.'

*******************************************************************

John was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in the upstairs bathroom. His head tilted back, a cotton wad stuffed in each of his nostrils while he held an ice-pack firmly pressed to the bridge of his nose. Sherlock was leaning against the sink opposite of him. A towel wrapped around his waist the only piece of clothing he had bothered to put on.

'Are the painkillers working yet?' he asked. 

'Yeah, thanks', the swelling in Johns nose was starting to go down a bit and he was pleased to find he was regaining the use of the letter 't'.  
'I'm sorry I bled on your moms favorite sofa.'

Sherlock snickered and shook his head. 'I'm sorry I kneed you in the face.' 

'Did you at least enjoy yourself until it all went tids up?' (Not completely regained the use of the letter 't' then)

'I came, didn't I'. 

'Not what I asked, Sherlock.' 

Sherlock sighed, pushed himself away from the sink and came to stand directly in front of John where he was seated on the toilet. His towel clad mid-section directly at eye-level.  
John swallowed.

'Scooch over', he said as he proceeded to sit himself down next to John.  
It was a tight fit. Their arms and thighs pressed close together.  
Sherlock lifted the arm he had pressed against John and used it to gently guide Johns head to rest on his shoulder.

'You were wonderful', he said.  
With Sherlock so close by John felt the rumble of his baritone voice first before he heard it. 

'You're not just saying that because I'm bleeding and in pain, are you.'

Sherlock chuckled softly. Again, John felt the sound before he heard it. It reminded him of the purring of a large cat. It was lovely.  
'No, John. I'm not. I genuinely enjoyed everything you were doing. That's why my body reacted the way it did. Because it was so good.'

'So you're saying I'm good at giving head.'

'That is the general gist of it, yes.'

Even with both his nostrils stuffed with cotton and a slowly melting pack of ice pressed to his face John managed to emit a sense of pride. 

Sherlock chuckled again and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.  
They just sat there for a little while longer in companionable silence. Johns head still on Sherlocks shoulder. Rising and falling with the steady pattern of his breathing. Slowly lulling him to sleep.  
And just as John was about to actually fall asleep Sherlock spoke again:  
'John?'

'Hmmmm?'

'Do you think you also might be good at climbing out of bathroom windows?'

'Beg your pardon?'

From downstairs the sound of a door opening and closing followed by footsteps through the hallway reached them.

'I believe my mother just got home.'

**Author's Note:**

> I find I like writing these short teenlock stories. I'm thinking of turning it into a series.  
> Once again: thank you very much for reading.
> 
> And now with fan art of my own making. Very vanilla, but whenever I think of teenage Sherlock I think of pilot Sherlock and I had this one reference picture where is reclining on a sofa and it reminded me of this story: http://vanimelda4.tumblr.com/post/172136793996/whenever-i-wonder-what-teenage-sherlock-looks-like


End file.
